


Bodies make it perfect

by edourado



Series: Hell's Kitchen Chronicles [34]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Companion Piece, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Smutish, can stand alone, drunk!Karen, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7805116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edourado/pseuds/edourado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk Karen is a test to Frank's will power</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bodies make it perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to Second Night, but it can stand alone. Title is from the song "I'm Into You", by Chet Faker. Sexy, sexy, sexy.

“Csn u cme grt me?”, said the text, typos and all. Which was not a lot like her, so he frowned and typed a reply. 

“Where r u?”

“Tgis bar. Drinks iwth friends. Wnna g home.”

Oh. Ok. Tipsy. Lifting his brows, he felt his mouth curve in an amused smile.

“Go home then.”

It has been… Strange, between them. Nice, but strange. In all his life, Frank has never been a man of half measures. If he was interested in someone, he made it clear. He asked them out. Never in his life he had lead a girl on or beat around the bush. He made it happen and he took pride in that. 

But that was before, when he was a normal man. Now, he was everything but normal. Living outside of the law didn’t exactly allow him a normal go at relationships. So this thing with Karen was a bit tough for him to define. 

He liked her. That was undeniable, no point in trying to convince himself he didn’t. And she liked him too. There was something between them, since the first time they saw each other, when she walked into his hospital room holding hands with Red and he was strapped to the bed. That little something made itself known since she decided to ignore the red line on the floor, when she fought and breathed relieved when the death penalty was no longer an option for him. When she helped him remember his family. That’s why he asked her to stay and that’s why he stayed, every time, even when he knows he should leave. 

“I cant ho gome”, she replied. “Ned a ride pls coe get me.” 

He already knew he was going to. His mind was made since her first text. 

“Which bar?”

It was a mexican restaurant and he was on his feet and out the door in seconds. Not the most dangerous place she could pick, but still owned by the cartel.

Frank parked his car on the corner, on the other side of the street. 

“Door”, he texted her. A minute or two later and there she was, putting her coat on, holding her purse on her hand, the strap hanging towards the floor. Her cheeks were red and her hair was not the professional style he was used to. It was down, and the waves on the lenght told him she wore it up all day and let it down recently. Some strands were sticking out, and they caught the light above her head. Still, it framed her face nicely.

A bit of a cute mess, Karen Page. 

He turned the engine on and flashed the lights once, calling her attention. She looked his way and he drove to the restaurant door, stopping for her to get in. 

“You rang?” he asked, driving away when she closed the door again.

She turned around to him on her seat and smiled at him. 

“Hi”, she said. 

“Hi yourself.”

“Thanks for coming”, she said, very slowly, and she was trying not to slur, he realized.

“Fun night?”

“Hmm”, turning around again, she sat straight, looking to the street ahead. “Could be better”. 

“Put your seatbelt on”, he instructed, taking the long route towards her apartment, checking his mirrors to make sure they weren’t being followed. 

Just in case.

.:.

She had to open her own door once they made it up the stairs - Frank had carried her up, because her shoes were hurting her feet and she didn’t want to walk barefoot on the stairs. It took a while and he tried not to laugh as she let out an “ oh, fuckity”, trying to insert the key while he held her. 

“There you go, ma’am”, he said, kicking the door closed once they were in. She dropped her shoes on the floor and he put her on the kitchen counter, which was the closest surface he found, and moved to prepare a fresh pot of coffee for her. 

“I’m not hungry”, she told him and he looked at her. 

“Didn’t say you were. I’m just making you coffee.”

“Oh. Ok.” 

She moved her hand to get her hair out of her face and he realized her was staring while the sink filled the pot with water. 

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

She curled her finger, calling him to step closer to her and he did. 

“Tomorrow’s my birthday.”

He raised his brows, looking at her, her knee touching his side.

“You mean today?”

“Is it after midnight?”

“Has been for a while now.”

“Well. Then yes, it’s today.”

He smiled at her and she smiled back, eyes bright with something like mischief and all the alcohol she had ingested. 

“Why is it a secret?”

Karen shrugged and he moved to sort the coffee maker, pressing the button to start it. She reached for his shirt and toyed with a button. 

“It’s not really. I just wanted to tell you, so you could be the first to wish me a happy birthday.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. She kept saying things like that a Frank kept telling himself that he was no good for her, that he should stay away, for her safety. But she called and she smiled and she let him sleep in her bed with her and he ignored his own advice every time.

As bad and toxic as he knew he was, they were like opposite sides of two magnets. There was a pull and he was very, very weak when it came to resisting it.

He had kissed her a few times. Slept in her bed twice, cuddled with her as if he were afraid someone was going to come and take her. But that was all. Kisses and cuddles and he was trying, Frank was really trying not to make it evolve, to keep it simple, but she would call, she would smile and she would say she wanted him to be the first to wish her a happy birthday and the Big Bad Punisher was weak, he caved and he let himself be lured in by blue eyes and a coy smile. 

While the coffee maker made it’s noises and the smell of his strong coffee (she bought his favorite, now) slowly filled the kitchen, he stepped closer, reaching a hand to her knee, bringing both her legs closer to his side, and she placed her own hand on his face, leaning towards him. 

“Well, then”, he said, her lips very close to his. Her hand slid down his neck and closed around the collar of his shirt while she bit on her lower lip, smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world. “Happy birthday, Karen”, he whispered, leaning closer, nose against her cheek. 

“Thank you, Frank”, she whispered back and her lips dragged against his own as she spoke. 

She tasted like tequila and lime. Her tongue moved lazily against his, as he had learned to expect by now, but there was something… More. This time, it felt more intense, even as she moved lower, smooth and sleek against him, her fingers on his skin something he felt he knew, that he should know, he wanted to know. 

Even while his brain told him “that’s enough. Stop it”, he moved his head to kiss her a bit deeper, pulled her from the counter so he could hold her, put his arms around her and secure her against him. Her own went up and around his neck, and then her hands were in his face again, he needed to stop right now, but he wanted more, more, more of her, more of them, more of him with her. 

With a “hmm”, she slowed down, caressed his face and his neck, kissed the corner of his mouth and touched her forehead to his again. “I got myself a little present yesterday”, she said. “Wanna see?”

“Don’t know”, he said, trying everything to calm down, his eyes closed, his hands on her back. “Do I?”

“You might be mad at me, but I couldn’t resist”, she said, kissing his lips one more time, moving slow and lazy and sleek against him and he could lose it, any minute now, if he didn’t watch himself. “I wanna take a shower”, she said, on the tip of her toes, hands on his face, his arms, around his neck, oh shit. “You wanna come with me?” she asked, almost careful, but also careless, kissing him slowly. 

Yes!, screamed something inside him, and he wanted to. Better, he wanted to strip her naked, sit her on the counter again, get on his knees and give her a very, very happy birthday, just to hear her going crazy, to feel her thighs around his head, her essence on his tongue and her voice in his ears. Only then, he would, yes, join her in the shower and stay there with her until the water went cold and her voice was hoarse. 

But there was a fair amount of alcohol running in her bloodstream, so no. He wouldn’t. Even when she sobered up, he wouldn’t because he shouldn’t, they shouldn’t, even if he wanted. She wanted. They both wanted, too much, so he lifted his head from hers, counting backwards from a hundred, drawing a deep breath.

“I’ll make your coffee.”

Sighing, she dropped from her tiptoes, hands sliding from his neck. 

“Ok”, she said, small. “But you’ll be here when I come back?”

He offered her what he judged was a non committing smile. 

“Yeah.”

“Frank, I mean it. Please, don’t go away.”

He looked at her face and her eyes were big on him, because she knew. He never told her, but she knew he was always thinking, always trying to convince himself, always coming up with reasons against what he wanted, what they wanted. 

And, yet again: how in the world could he say no to those eyes?

“I won’t”, he promised. 

Closing the bathroom door after her with a smile, she disappeared from his sight and he turned back around towards the counter with a heavy sigh, watching the last drops of coffee hit the fresh pot, thinking that he should be locked up, the key thrown away, just for allowing this to happen. Nevermind all the other real charges against him, he was worried about this one, the prospect of hurting this woman who, from day one, was willing to trust him with all her heart. 

It had been ten minutes and he walked to the bathroom door to check on her. 

“Karen?”, he called, listening to the water hit the shower floor. 

“Yeah?”

“You ok in there?”

“Fine! I’ll be right out!”

He walked to sit on her couch, sipping on hot coffee after checking the locks on her door and windows. All good.

“Ok”, she said, poking her head out the bathroom. “Do you promise not to be mad?”

He frowned at her, lowering his cup. 

“No.”

“No, you have to promise.”

“What is it? Just come out.”

Biting her lower lip again, she opened the door and walked out, hair up in a bun, arms and upper body covered by this huge black sweater, her legs bare, walking on the tips of her toes. 

“Aw, come on”, he said, resting his head on the couch. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, but I love it!”

Plastered on the front of her sweater, was the white skull that became his symbol. 

“You serious, with this?”

“No, I know, but listen. I figured it would be something you could wear, you know”, she stepped closer and stood in front of him, bending a knee on the couch by his left leg, swaying a bit and he reached a hand to steady her. “When you stay over. That’s why I bought it so big.”

He looked up at her, the back on his neck against the couch while she moved to kneel over him, one naked leg on each side of him, nothing to barrier his fingers against her skin, still cool from her shower. 

“Is that gonna happen a lot?”

“It’s been happening, right?” she sat on top of his legs, almost casually, and he ran a hand on the edge of the skull stencil.

“Maybe we should stop it”, he said, handing her his mug of coffee. 

She took a sip and blinked, looking at him, and he knew she was going to say something. 

“You know, after all those shootings, all those times people came here and took me… I don’t really feel safe. I’m always on edge.”

She drank from the mug again and he felt himself tense, imagining all the times - that he knew of - she was almost killed.

“But when you’re here, I sleep better”, she said, taking his hand and making him take the mug again. “I feel like I can relax, because you won’t let anything happen to me. Right?”

“Not ever.”

She smiled and leaned into him, lips on his cheek, his jaw, the curve of his neck. 

“If you stay with me, I’ll stay with you, too”, she whispered and he was gripping the edge of the sweater with one hand and moving the other to place the mug on the little side table by the couch. “I’ll always be here for you, and I’ll keep all the bad things away, I promise.”

Her hands rose and she was running the very tip of her fingers into his hair, one finger gently tracing that scar that killed him for a few minutes and changed him for life.

Either this woman is some kind of enchantress or his will power is very, very subpar. Frank has been trained to sustain torture, war, chaos, pain. He did, on a number of occasions. But then in strolls Karen Page, with her smart mouth, her head-first attitude and her smiles, her faith in him and her face, her fingers and her hair. Her. One smile and he's a goner. 

If she wanted information from him, he was pretty sure these kisses and slow caresses would make him sing like a bird. 

“What you doin’, ma’am?” he breathed out when she ran her lips over his eyes, very aware of every part of her on top of him.

“Celebrating my birthday, sir”, she whispered and what the hell. Sir? “I like your face like this”, she said, fingertips and lips on his jaw.

“Like what?”

This is bad. Bad, bad, but so good, he feels so good, she feels so good perched on top of him, he wants more.

“Like this, when you let your beard grow a little”. She rolled her hips and he gripped them, to stop her, or to guide her, who knows, at this point. “Feels good against my face.”

He knew she liked it. Had noticed her eyes lingering when he showed up after skipping a shave or two, noticed the way she rubbed her own cheek against his that time he kissed her and his face was prickly, took note on her fingers when he woke up on her bed, roaming sleepily around his jaw.

“Yeah?” he asked, raising his hips slightly, just a bit, an inch or two, fingers digging on her skin when she rolled her own, nodding. 

“Yes, sir”, she whispered and she knew it. She must know that word would make him melt, would do something to him, would make him angle his face and open his mouth to hers when she kissed him, a small moan coming out when his tongue touched hers, ringing loud and deep in his ears. 

It was with some relief he felt that she had put on what felt like shorts. They could pretty much be classified as underwear, maybe something she would wear under a dress, but he was going with shorts, just to keep himself from going nuts. Either way, his hands moved, one gripping her waist, the other going around, fingers spreading and gripping supple flesh when she rose up on her knees a bit, trying to get closer to him, pulling him to her, mouth open and tongue slow against his.

Trying to remember that she was drunk, that there was a small chance she didn’t really know what she was doing (even if that contradicted her past behavior, when she had been stone cold sober and still welcomed him without hesitation), he lowered his face to her neck, to have an excuse to stop kissing her, breathing in on her skin. 

“Drink your coffee”, he said, resting his back on the couch again, holding her a bit away from him by her hips, a hand on her belly to stop her from leaning in, with the excuse of feeling the skull print. 

“Yes, sir”, she said again and his eyes met hers while she took another sip. “How do you like my sweater?”

He thought about telling her to toss it. He didn’t like that shit like that was being sold, he didn’t do it to be famous. And, if someone, by any chance, saw her wearing it, it could be dangerous. Could get her in trouble, and that was the very last thing he wanted. 

But. It was something of an ego boost, to have her sitting there on his legs, drinking coffee he made for her, wearing his symbol like that. It was a bad thing to think, but he felt good. He felt like it was a claim, almost. Mine. His. 

She wasn’t, of course, but he could pretend. So, going against his better judgement, he ran his fingers over it again. 

“Looks good on you.”

Her brows shot up and she opened a bright smile. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t want you wearing it outside, though.”

And, again, putting the mug away, leaning in again, lips against his cheek again, one more time (“repeat as necessary”, he realized): 

“Yes, sir.”

Before she could kiss him, while she explored his neck and pulled on the collar of his shirt, he closed his eyes. 

“I should go.”

“No, why?”

“You’re all good, now. Safe home, you should sleep the booze off. And I should go.”

Enchantress, siren, irresistible woman started moving again, pulling his shirt up his chest, this time. 

“I want you to stay”, she said, trying to pull it off him, but not really, just teasing. “I like waking up to you, I like to sleep with you”. He breathed harder, because she was pretty much moaning, now. “Please stay, Frank.” And then she planted a slow kiss on his lips, backing away before he could open his mouth to her. Her smile was almost wicked. Almost. “I’ll be a good girl”, she said. 

He was going to stay. Who was he kidding? 

Teasing the edge of her shorts, making her squirm a bit on top of his legs, he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Will you, now?”

She nodded, slow smile, biting on that lower lip now and it should be illegal, how incredibly sensual it looked. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”

Yes. Wicked. 

He knew what she meant, of course, and she knew he knew it. And, in any other circumstances, that little line would lead to something incredible. Something he has been trying to snuff out inside himself, but there was no point. 

Tonight, though, it would lead to absolutely nothing, because he simply could not risk it. It was a slim chance, she had been giving him all kinds of signs that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, and tonight, she has been everything but subtle. But there was a chance, tiny as it was, that it was the alcohol speaking, so he would take his time.

He waited until now, what’s another night?

So he took a deep breath, pressed her down on his hips a bit, enjoying the surprised hitch on her breath, the pleasured way she closed her eyes. 

“In that case…” he started, letting her lean into him again, her breathing a bit hard, feeling himself stir under her, enjoying her mouth on his neck again. 

“So you’ll stay?”

“If you do as I say.”

“I will.”

“Ok then”, he said, catching her face on his hands, kissing her very softly, and looking into her eyes when she looked at him, cheeks flushed. “It’s past your bedtime.”

She blinked at him, an “are you kidding?” look on her face. 

“C’mon, off you go.”

She sighed, looking at him and deciding he was serious. 

“You’re no fun”, she proclaimed, getting up. 

Tonight, no he wasn’t.

He walked to the kitchen and watched as she climbed into bed. Once she was settled, she looked at him, waiting for him to climb to her side. 

“I’ll take the couch this time. And you”, he added when she made to complain. “Are going to drink this” he handed her the glass of water he had gotten. “And sleep the whole night.”

She rolled her eyes, she stared at him, she drank her water, she sighed dramatically. 

“Sleep tight, birthday girl”, he said, pecking her very lightly on the lips. And then he walked away. 

.;.

He had been fully asleep for maybe ten minutes, arm thrown over his eye, when:

“Frank!”

Waking with a start, he sat up and looked behind him. Karen was sitting in bed, her hair a mess, covers around her, looking at him. 

“I’m really cold.”

He sighed. 

The couch was doing nothing for his back, anyway, so he got up, walked to her bed and threw himself on the side of the mattress he usually occupied when he was there, an arm over her while she covered them both and hooked her leg with his. 

“Thank you”, she said, from his neck.

They both fell asleep quickly. 

.;.

He was at the kitchen when she called for him the next morning, voice hoarse from sleep. 

“Frank?”

“Morning”, he replied, putting the mug on the small tray he had found in one of her cabinets, walking to her bed. 

She was sitting up, still wearing the Punisher sweater and he wished she wouldn’t take too long eating.

“Birthday breakfast”, he said, putting the tray on her lap and she smiled at him, rubbing her eyes. 

It was nothing much, just some pancakes with the gooey chocolate sauce he used to make for the kids on their birthdays and a strong cup of coffee to eliminate any trace of the alcohol from last night. Just like the kids, she got chocolate on her face and her fingers and he wanted her to hurry up. So he helped her a bit, taking a bite here and there when she offered. 

“How you feeling?” he asked when she was done, finally, putting the tray with the empty plate and mug on the bedside table. 

“Good”, she replied. “A little headache.”

She was looking at him as if expecting something bad. So he reached out and ran his thumb on the skin between her eyes, down the bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes briefly, enjoying his touch. Good sign. 

“You’re not still drunk?” he asked. 

Karen chuckled and shook her head. 

“No.”

“Ok then.”

Reaching out his hand, he took the comforter away from her legs, watching for her reactions. Her eyes lifted to his in a good expression, nice surprise, welcoming whatever it was he was doing. 

He pulled on her legs to make her lie down again and she let out a surprised, amused smile, so he moved to hover over her, not touching his body to hers just yet. 

“You still a good girl?” he hoped she remembered their conversations, she wasn’t that drunk. 

Biting on her lower lip, she breathed a bit harder, eyes shining, and nodded. 

“Hmm. You still do as I say?”

Again, she nodded, looking at him with anticipation, the same excitement from last night, and that settled it. 

Carefully, slowly, still giving her time to stop him, he dropped his body on hers, feeling all the curves of her, the smooth skin, long legs curling against his, hands raising to his back. 

There was a small part of him that wished she would be the voice of reason and stop him, tell them that they shouldn’t, that he should leave. He would go in a minute. It would be difficult as hell, but he would. 

Alas, she took him with open arms, accepting his kiss eagerly, arching against him slightly, moving her head to give him access when he went for her neck. 

“Since it’s your birthday and all, I won’t ask too much. Just three things. Ok?”

Again, she nodded and he braced himself on his arms. 

“Take my shirt off”, he said, voice low against her mouth. 

Lifting her head to keep kissing him, she moved to remove his shirt. When it was off him, she discarded it by her side on the bed and he went back to lying down on top of her. 

“Next” he said, taking her hands in his and raising them above her head, guiding her. “You’re gonna hold on to these nice bars, and you’re not gonna let go. Understand?”

She was breathing a bit hard, her legs tight around his and she nodded one more time. 

Frank forced himself to go slow. This has been a long time coming, they should both enjoy it. Plus, it’s her birthday. 

“Frank”, she breathed out, undulating her body against his and it was his turn to moan against her mouth, because she felt like he thought she would, moving like that against him. 

“And now I want you to try and be quiet”, he said, detaching his mouth from her, running her fingers down her arms, over that fucking sweater, reaching her hips, hooking his fingers on those poor excuse for shorts, watching for her reactions when he tugged on them. “Because it’s Saturday morning, and all your neighbors are still home”, he completed while she raised her hips slightly. He lowered the flimsy thing down her legs, lowering his face to her neck, his path dulled by the material of the sweater, he would take care of that later. “There are kids running up and down the hall outside your door, we don’t want them to hear anything, do we?”

She shook her head, arching her back, moving her hips and he rose to her face again. 

“Can you do that?”

“Yes”, she whispered, urgent, opening her mouth to his one more time before he made his way back down. 

“Good girl.”

And then, finally, he reached his target, opening his mouth and attaching it to her without preamble, going in at once, like he wanted to do last night, all those nights, all those times he had convinced himself to turn away. 

Her legs over his shoulder, Karen let out a strangled cry, catching herself right after and he imagined she was biting down on her own lower lip to keep herself quiet while his tongue moved against her. With his right forearm, he held her hips down, to keep her from moving too much. His left hand rose until it closed around her throat, not too hard, he just wanted to feel her voice trying to come out while she did her best to keep it in. 

Aside from that, he let her move as she pleased. Her feet went up and down his back, and off, to the mattress, pressing down, trying to raise her hips against his face, her hands gripping the iron headboard, giving her some leverage to move, even while he held her down. 

She was incredible, he could do this forever. He could feel the whimpers on her throat, could hear her heavy breaths, feel her shivering when he worked his tongue a certain way.

Frank was enjoying himself so much, in fact, that he didn’t even realize he has been cataloguing the inflections of her voice, the high pitched sounds, the struggled moans, the soft whimpers and the little cries, when she was supposed to be keeping quiet. 

Letting go of her throat, he lowered his hand and raised it again, this time under her sweater, feeling the goosebumps rising on her flesh and her belly shiver from his touch. Listening, feeling one of her feet press on his back, he closed his hand around her right breast, slightly harder than he normally would, he changed the angle of his mouth and she let out a loud cry. 

“Ah! Frank!” she cried when he bit on the skin of her thigh and moved up, her legs sliding from his shoulders to settle on his hips. 

“Didn’t I tell you to keep quiet, ma’am?”

“Hmm, yes, sorry”, she breathed out while he analyzed the flush on her neck and cheeks.

And he hadn’t forgotten, so.

“Yes, what?”

Karen looked at him with big blue eyes. She looked confused for only a moment, and then she gave him a smile that was shy and excited at the same time, securing her leg against his hip while he tried - and failed, somewhat - not to thrust.

“Yes, sir.” 

“What if someone hears you from outside, hmm? What are we gonna do then?”

She was still holding on the the bars of her bed, now trying to mold her hips to his, even if he was still wearing his pants. 

“I’ll be quiet”, she whispered.

“What am I gonna do if someone hears you and figure out I am ruining”, he took his hand to work his button and zipper “the one good thing on this fucking city?”

Breathing hard, she stopped trying to work his pants off him with her legs for a moment. He ran his lips over her face, teeth nibbling here and there.

“You’re the best thing about this whole place”, he said. 

“You're not ruining me, Frank” she said, going back to moving against him, letting go of the rails to touch him. 

“Oh, but I am”, he said, looking in her eyes again. “I'm a greedy bastard, ma’am”. His pants barely on, he moved his hips, thrusting and rolling and pressing, just to see her gasping, just to see those eyes rolling back and her cheeks tint red.

Lifting her face, Karen caught his mouth in a kiss that made him vibrate from the inside, that made him want to pounce. 

“Maybe I'm the one ruining you”, she breathed against his mouth.

“Not an ounce of doubt about that”, he answered.

While he kissed her, he worked his pants off and, even when she locked one of her legs around his hips, he took it in his hand and lifted himself from her, guiding her hands back to the iron bars of her bed. 

“Frank…” she breathed out, big eyes on him. 

“Hmm?” he asked, but she didn’t elaborate. He saw it as a good thing.

With a few moves that had her breathing hard and biting her lip to keep quiet, he was sitting on his feet heels, facing the headboard, placing her legs to each side of him. And then he was lifting her hips to align her to him, a pillow under her. And then, with a swift but gentle move, he was trying to hold one of his own grunts in. He knew she was going to feel good, he just didn’t expect it to be like this. This good. He didn’t expect her to move like that, following his rhythm effortlessly, breathing hard and trying her best to do as she was told, to keep quiet, her fingers tight around the iron bars while he moved, picked up the pace, slowed it back down, experimented, tried, watched, lost himself in her, her body and the way she looked, the way she felt, the way she responded to him. 

“Take this fucking thing off”, he said, his own breathing labored, pulling on her sweater and she lifted it from her torso, the black fabric turning inside out, hiding the white skull and revealing planes of creamy skin. In a second, she was completely naked in front of him and he had to lean forward, to run his mouth over her, moving, he never wanted to stop moving, especially when she arched into him like that, when he closed his mouth around one breast and a hand around the other, tongue and teeth and lips and fingers teasing, and it, all that, plus the new angle, made her cry out, let one hand go from the headboard and attach itself to his neck, her leg tight on his hip, the other around one of his own. 

Frank heard her struggles to keep quiet, to muffle whatever sounds he was pulling from her and he wanted to hear them, to feel them, make sure he made her feel like she made him feel, 

Lifting his head from her breast, he took hold of her hip with his right hand, the left rising to her jaw, to caress her face, to feel her lip and her closed eyelids, the puff of breath he released on his palm, tongue darting out to taste him. 

With a kiss, Frank maneuvered her hips up, moving slowly, but intensely, grinding hard, grunting as he felt her move to adjust, to welcome. 

“Oh, God, Frank-” she started, before biting on her lip to keep quiet. 

“That’s it, come on”, he urged, speeding up, just a bit, his ego flying high with the whimpers she let out. 

When he ducked his head down to catch a breast on his mouth again, he felt her skin raising in shivers, red spots all over white. 

“Is that for me?” he asked, coming back to kiss her, hand relentless on her breast. “Hmm? Is that all for me?”

“Hmm, yes, yes, please, oh, God-”

With a chunk of the skin of her neck between his teeth, Frank sped up again. He sped up, setting up a pace that was a bit unforgiving, maybe a bit too hard, and he placed his hand over her mouth. 

Letting go of the headboard completely, Karen held on to him, he felt her nails on his back and her teeth on the fleshy part of his hand, and she let go, gave up trying to keep quiet. She whimpered and moaned and cried against his hand, lips and tongue and teeth on his palm, and she tried to move with him and Frank loved it, he loved that she didn’t just lay there and took it, he loved it and he had to close his eyes to focus, to reign in even if just a strand of self control. 

“Fuck, you’re killing me”, he said, slowing down again. He had to, he just had to. 

She chuckled against his mouth, hands on his face, kissing him back with an appetite that was making him lose it. 

Both arms by her head, now, he made sure her legs were set around his waist, and then he stopped trying to keep it in. Frank let himself take her like he had been thinking about all this time. Hard and fast, fingers of one hand gripping a few strands of her hair, the other closed around the iron bars of the headboard. 

He couldn’t control the grin when her teeth clamped down on his neck in another attempt to keep her voice down. He kept the fast pace, feeling her body under and around his, skin sliding on skin, all that friction was going to make him lose his mind. 

Frank felt her hand lift to join his on the bars, and he caught it, lacing their fingers together, and he was waiting for her, now, just waiting for her and, there she was, glorious, shaking, shivering, moaning, vibrating under him, senseless words escaping her, fuck, she’s beautiful. 

His mouth was on hers again when he exploded inside her, stars blurring his vision for a second or two. Karen was running her hands on his back, the side of her foot up and down one of his legs, her own hips moving like that, riding a high that took her breath away. 

“Oh my God”, she was breathing out, hands falling from him on the mattress. “Shit, oh my God, Frank…”

His movements were lazy when he lifted his head to look at her, a slow smile on his lips. 

“Happy birthday, ma’am.”

She must have found that funny, because she started laughing, out of breath, biting her lips, looking back at him, hands on his face. 

“Hmm, thank you, sir.” Lifting her head to kiss him, she hugged him to her. “That’s one hell of a way to celebrate it.”

If Frank found it difficult to leave before, it would be damn near impossible now, with her pressed to intimately against him, her back to his chest, his arm around her, while she talked of her job and the next story and tales of birthdays past.

And maybe he could hold her up on that promise, that, if he stayed, so would she. Maybe she really could keep all the bad things away. 

He should never ask that of her. He wouldn’t. And yet, the way she was nestling against his chest, she was already delivering.


End file.
